


Maybe I'm Too Blind to See the Fire Is All That Walks with Me

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Canon, Sexual Fantasy, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more he drank in the sight passing by him, the less he was able to convince himself to confront her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I'm Too Blind to See the Fire Is All That Walks with Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winter_Poppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Poppy/gifts).



> happy birthday! <3

Deep within the Empire’s fortress, everyone spoke of the woman. Rumor spread fast of how she wasn’t from the mortal realm and her otherworldly traits were proof she belonged elsewhere. Their lips sealed immediately when she strolled by them - carefree, yet steadfast. Once she vanished around a corner, those who whispered before mentioned how she could not only produce a flame without flint and tinder, but could command it at will. Everyone shivered at the thought and feared if they spoke one ill word before her, she’d char their bodies to black ash.

Kefka almost wished they did, just to see if she’d do it.

Though when the soldiers brought their attention to the Magitek knight and asked for his opinion on the fiery woman, he fluttered his eyes and contorted his face. Didn’t they have better things to do with their time than blabber over others? He always scolded them and sent them hurrying off to accomplish menial tasks. The troops were quick to write Kefka off as someone who wasn’t remotely interested in the woman they spoke of.

But they were wrong. Oh, they were _so_ fucking wrong.

The rest would fear speaking it, but he knew her name. How could he forget? From his distant vantage point, he kept a vigil on Terra. The more he drank in the sight passing by him, the less he was able to convince himself to confront her. It wasn’t that Kefka _didn_ _’t_ wish to speak with her - let alone act upon the thousands of thoughts dirtying his mind - but the idea of marring a fragment of Terra would destroy him from the inside out.

She didn’t simply command magic - she _was_ magic. Every damn part of her screamed it and Kefka longed to bask in the magnificent aura she produced, though he stopped himself short each time.

Instead, he reverted to his thoughts, like he always did, and allowed them to spiral out of control.

He thought of her ash blonde hair. Whenever the light washed over it, a shimmer of mint green highlighted the loose curls. She always kept it tied back in a printed fabric, though a few wisps hovered along her forehead. He couldn’t recall if he ever saw her hair down. Now he wanted to.

He thought of her face, framed by her big, bright eyes. They were blue... or were they green? Kefka never caught a proper glimpse of them. The only aspect which entranced him more was the plump flesh of her lips. She smiled often, occasionally giggling. What other sounds would she make, he wondered, if she was poked and prodded to do so?

He thought of her choice in fashion, the bold material bringing life to the muted tones within the Imperial confines. Kefka was never one for boring statements and it pleased him to no end to witness Terra also savoring the finer luxuries which life provided. He loved her in red, but he reveled in the way the fabric clung to her body; sections flowed and billowed in her movements, while others hugged along the evident curves she was never ashamed to show.

He thought of her legs, always donning a different set of tights. It wasn’t that she tried to hide them as it was she wanted to decorate them or so Kefka convinced himself. Her hips and thighs were more pronounced than any other part of her body; it was bound to earn her attention. Terra lacked the physique of the soldiers, leaving her with a softer build. Surely sinking a hand into her thighs wouldn’t be akin to touching a brick wall.

That was when Kefka always lost himself. His breath caught in his throat and his mind unfolded a multitude of scenarios, all of which would live eternally within him and nowhere else.

Closing his eyes, he submerged himself into his fantasies with Terra. She wore her hair down for him to comb his long fingers through. His other hand would trace the length of her spine before groping at her rear. He imagined her being beyond plush, perhaps akin to a decadent material not yet discovered or created. What sounds would she make while he fondled her? How would she react when he ducked in to kiss her with rigid intensity? Would she part those sinful lips for him when he rocked his body into hers?

As much as he wanted to preserve every essence of Terra, Kefka couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t tear her outfit to shreds. It would only be in the way, after all. He wanted to explore every inch of her with his mouth and tongue, tasting sweet, magical flesh forged by fire itself. He _needed_ to know how soft she was and what mewls would trickle out of her when he teased her nipples. Would she part her legs for him when he longed to taste more of her? Would she beg for him?

Kefka did his best to revert to his private quarters before his thoughts devoured him. There he was able to act on his desires, even if Terra wasn’t present. But he thought of her. He always did. Closing his eyes, he returned to the fantasy world he created for the two of them, where she would be crawling into his lap with a devilish giggle laced on her pout. Even though he couldn’t fully trick his mind, Kefka managed to convince himself his hand was hers stroking over him. He imagined her voice filling his ear with lewd ideas and her tongue teasing his neck, just to spur him forward. She could straddle him to rub wantonly along his thigh, all while tightening her grip and quickening her rhythm. He longed for her physical presence, for only then would he properly be able to show her the influence she had on him.

As wicked and licentious each release and daydream was, Kefka opened his eyes and never found Terra there. She was to be admired from a distance. A creature of exotic beauty walking amongst mere mortals was above everything in existence. Kefka could never fathom dirtying that pool of magic with his own hands. He might have yearned for her daily to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could contain himself anymore, but he could better stomach his insatiable lust than he could the idea of marking her with a single scratch along her pristine skin.

So he continued to watch and she continued to walk by. If only she knew half of the thoughts lingering within him and how every single one of them were because of her, then maybe she’d understand he was more her thrall than she was a puppet to the Empire.


End file.
